the obama private diary, installment 6

September 25, 2008. First debate with The Prisoner tomorrow. Sumbitch took away my prep time with his running to WDC to rally the House members for the financial-thingey vote. House members? I didn’t even know they get to vote! Bunch of junior-varsity hacks anyway; scrub players. Somebody told me there’s like 5 times as many of them as there are of us. That’s stupid. They don’t know nothing about being in The World’s (Second) Most Exclusive Club. Yeah, that’s right – second! What’s first? The one I about to ride my own coattails into. Got that right! The Most High President of the 57 States of America! YEAH! ME! First rule: Them House pukes gonna get punked. Don’t get to vote no more. Bunch of Prisoner lovers. Yeah, pushback. Sucks, eh?

So this debate. I got a few good lines ready. Check this one out: “What I do is I close corporate loopholes, stop providing tax cuts to corporations that are shipping jobs overseas so that we're giving tax breaks to companies that are investing here in the United States.” The funny thing is, of course, ain’t no such thing as a “loophole.” The tax code makes you pay taxes on everything except what it cuts out. And what it cuts out is stuff to help make jobs. So you go cutting “loopholes” and you go cutting jobs. People too dumb to know that. This line also sucks right into the union thugs. Can’t wait until Little Jimmy Hoffa kisses my ring. Day after my coronation: Hey, Jimmy? C’mere, son! And could you imagine if I cut out tax deductions for ANY company with overseas operations that they COULD have here? It would be economic chaos! Good thing the press is in the fully kneepad mode – they ain’t analyzing nothing I say. It’s like they don’t care. Sometimes I don’t get that. Anyway …

I got a plan for the debate, too. Gonna call him John a lot. Boy ain’t earned respect yet. Got that right! And then I’m gonna do the rope-a-dope on him: “I agree with John.” Plan on saying it a lot. He’ll like me, then I can sucker punch him! Yeah, I’m good, I’m good.

I’m tired. Gotta get some sleep. Can’t remember where I put my sock monkey. Bummed.

NOTE. These two passages, immediately above and subsequent to this Note, give us a unique opportunity to observe Obama before and after an important event. We should seek to understand his level of realistic views both of the potential risks and rewards of the upcoming event and his assessment of his performance afterward. It will assist us to better understand his psychological and emotional grounding, something which we have begun to suspect may have loosened over the last several months. Let’s begin.

The first paragraph suggests a gross detachment from reality. The topics of discussion flash quickly, addressing not only disparate stakeholders but also fantastical views of future times.

He begins by acknowledging the immediacy of the debate, and then cannot control his diversion what Senator McCain is mentioned. His words suggest that he acknowledges the relative importance of the event – one for which he needs to prepare – but then quickly transits into exhibiting a painful lack of understanding of constitutional principles. Sentence by sentence this first paragraph leaps to differing and substantive issues. His concluding lines include a claiming of the presidency as his own, an odd contrast with the opening line.

Readers should take note that Obama’s ability to focus and ground himself in a single reality appears largely diminished. If some unanticipated event, such as a teleprompter function, were to occur, the probability of an uncontrolled and perhaps uncontrollable reaction may ensue.

The second paragraph provides no reassurance. He begins again with the debate preparation and stays focused enough to quote some lines written on his behalf. However, he quickly escapes to post-election glories and the humiliation of those around him.

The concluding substantive paragraph revolves around notions of superiority in his ability to control the presidential debate. It is interesting to note that he makes reference to a tactic used by boxing great Mohammad Ali in his challenger role against Heavyweight Champion George Foreman (the “rope-a-dope’).

Of passing interest is his comment early in this passage is that he is "about to ride my own coattails into" the presidency. It is a tacit acknowledgment that the Main-Stream Media is responsible for his current popular support and potential future electoral support. While this seems to be accurate, it is disturbing in that he lacks faith in his own abilities to win the race on his own merits. This acknowledgment may not serve him well in the future. If he loses, then he will not internalize the loss - he has already chosen the party, the MSM, that will have failed him. If he wins, he will see it as a hollow victory.

September 27, 2008. Boy. Did. I. Fuck. That. Up. “I got a bracelet, too!”? WTF, Barry? That Prisoner just had me rattled. I. Hate. The. Military. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. It. If’n this was the South Side and you jumped in front of a drive-by, the brothers would just say, “Dumb ass. Course you gonna get shot!” So why all of a sudden is it any different because the street is in Bagdad Bagdhad Bahgdad Baghdad? (Ya’d think an f’g dictionary would be on a plane this big. Damn. I need a way to remember that. But AH Got Dinner and Dessert! That works. “Feed the Troops!” My new motto. Gotta run that past My People.)

Man, I just blew it last night. Why can’t I have a teleprompter? Don’t seem right. It’s a race thing, I just know it. You see The Prisoner’s wife? Damn, she’s fine. I’d do a wife swap any day of the week. Whew!

I don’t think the agreeing-with-John bit worked too good. It’s ok, I fired some punk kid right after the debate. He cried. Was pretty funny.

Did you hear The Prisoner say “prisoner” twice? I almost burst out laughing! I gotta find another secret word for him that he won’t say. Can’t risk that again. Cancerhead? Naw. Too literal. Keyboard Envy? Doesn’t flow. What’s that thing on his jaw? Makes the left side of the boy’s face seem like his wisdom teeth be impacted. Flatbutt! That works. He ain’t gonna go say nothing like that no time. And it’s true, too. I was checking it out. Flatbutt.

Alright. I just want to forget last night. No more. I’m going to the bathroom on this plane for a while. Pack a cigarettes, get whiskey bent and hell bound. Case of whiskey is ok through security, but not a single line of blow. Go figure.

Obama’s emotions swing into a low cycle in this entry giving us an opportunity to witness his coping skills.

He first diverts, as seems a commonly used safe place for him, to his self-appointed sexual prowess in his assessment of the physical characteristics of Mrs. McCain.

His second diversion was to the Bus-Tossing Syndrome, firing a staffer. This suggests another layer of an inability to face his shortcomings. This observation is bolstered by the only problem-solving aspect in this entry: Changing his personal nickname for Senator McCain. “Flatbutt” may be humorous to him, but it again evidences his proclivity to seek out and absorb the physical attributes of the males in his presence.

The final issue presented in this entry shows us his preferred problem-solving approach: Drifting to his weakness of nicotine addiction, and now adding alcohol. Note that he laments the absence of another mind-altering substance, cocaine.

At this moment in these analyses, it is becoming clear that Mr. Obama may be best served by losing the race for the presidency. From all observations, it is stunningly clear that he is out of control – as may colloquially be stated, he is a train wreck waiting to happen. For the prospects of a recovery from this tightening spiral, it is suggested that he implode outside the public eye.